


No, I Don’t Remember.

by WitchBish



Category: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (2005)
Genre: Death, Explicit Language, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:28:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28972836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchBish/pseuds/WitchBish
Summary: While looking at the towns missing peoples listing online, Charlie accidentally triggers a memory that Willy hadn't thought about in years.
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

The day had been slow. The last several weeks Willy and Charlie had worked nonstop to prepare for the holidays, and now that they were over they had a chance to relax a little. They both sat in the family living room, Willy was sketching some designs ( the man never actually "relaxes") and Charlie was scrolling through his phone. A comfortable silence filled the room. 

The silence lasted for at least 30 minutes until Charlie spoke. "Huh, Willy do you recognize this man?" Willy looked up from his sketch and laid his pencil down. "I doubt it, let me see. You know how I am with facial recognition." 

Charlie handed his phone to Willy. Willy looked at the face before him. He did know this man, he knew him well. "Where did you find this picture, Charlie?" Willy wondered out loud. "I got bored and looked up local missing persons. I only ask if you know him because it said he worked here." 

Willy knew he had to lie. He couldn't admit he knew this person. He had a secret he wouldn't ever tell anyone, not even Charlie. He peered down at the grainy image of the ugly, bug eyed man. The words "Jerry Hillman, Missing Since September of 1991" written above the picture. "He looks vaguely familiar, but I had over a hundred employees at one point, so I don't know for sure." 

"That's what I figured.." Charlie said, "You kinda suck at remembering people." He laughed playfully after saying that, then took his phone back. Willy forced a playful chuckle out too, to avoid any suspicion. He looked down at his sketch, but his desire to draw was gone. His mind reeled with the past, with what happened on that summer night nearly 20 years ago. The night he murdered Jerry Hillman.


	2. Walking Down Memory Lane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please look over any typos, I wrote this on my phone.

The rest of the night was quiet. Charlie didn't seem suspicious, and Willy was very thankful. Why would he be suspicious? There were no logical reasons, but still, Willy worried. 

Willy hung around about an hour at Charlie's place after seeing the photo. He figured it would be odd if he left immediately after. After he left, Willy went straight to his bedroom. He was mentally exhausted, and wanted to sleep as soon as possible, if his mind would allow it. 

Willy laid on his back in bed, boring a hole in the ceiling with his eyes. Sleep was not coming easy. He hadn't thought about that August night in years. To be honest, he didn't have any guilt about it. He didn't regret it. He wasn't disturbed by it. The only thing he worried about was being caught, and the chances of that were slim. They got slimmer with every year that passed. But still, he worried. 

Willy took a deep breath and succumbed to his thoughts, remembered every detail, and immersed himself in the past. 

••••••••••••

August 15th, 1990. Employees flood out of the gates of the largest chocolate factory in the world. They chat with each other, and then head their separate ways. One man hung around the front, his large eyes scanned the crowd. He held an envelope tightly in his hand. This had become Jerry's Wednesday routine. For the last 3 weeks he waited there, waiting for Slugworth. Waiting for his money. 

They met in this particular spot because it was a blind spot for the security cameras Wonka had put up. They met close to the factory because it was easy to blend in. Easy to quickly exchange envelopes. One with a recipe, one filled with 1000 dollars. No one was the wiser, or so he thought. 

What Jerry didn't know was that the security cameras might not be able to see that spot, but Willy Wonka's eyes could. He could see that spot from the window in his office. He always watched his employees leave. Not because he was concerned, but because he found people fascinating. That was the original reason at least. Now, however, he had a certain employee to keep an eye on.

2 weeks ago Slugworth released a new candy called "Whizzing Powder." It was powdered candy that made a whizzing sound, obviously. Willy thought the release was odd for several reasons. For one, Slugworth usually stuck to the classics and avoided the whimsical. Another, was that Willy had written down that recipe 2 weeks prior to the candy's debut. He hadn't even had a chance to produce the candy himself yet. In fact, the original recipe had gone missing. Willy had it sitting on his desk. He wasn't overly concerned about it sitting out because he wasn't a fan of the idea, and wasn't sure it would even work. 

Jerry had come into his office 3 weeks ago. He said he wanted to talk in "private." Turned out he wanted a raise, which Willy had actually gave him. Willy recalled how desperate the man seemed, nervous almost. He had taken pity on him and agreed to give him an extra dollar on the hour. Willy regretted his generosity now because he was pretty sure this was when the theft began. 

Willy remembered turning around once to get some paperwork out of his file cabinet. He assumed this is when Jerry took the recipe off his desk. Sneaky bastard. He should have never trusted anyone, ever. 

Willy also assumed any other recipes that might have been stolen came straight from the factory floor. The employees kind of had to know the recipes if they were expected to make them, a fact that made Willy uncomfortable from the get go.

If Jerry hadn't stolen that dud recipe off of Willy's desk, he wouldn't have been a suspect. That decision would cost him his life. 

•••••••••••

Jerry knew he had made a mistake by stealing that hand written recipe of off Wonka's desk. He hadn't planned on it. Sure, he had already spoke to Slugworth about stealing some recipes, but he wasn't sure how to do it yet. He wasn't even sure if he was going to go through with it. All he knew was that he was desperate for money. 

He had made some bad deals in the past with some bad people. Due to this, some real scary people needed money from him. A lot of money. That's what inspired him to talk to Slugworth, and to ask for a raise. 

Well technically, Slugworth had spoken to him first. He must have sensed the desperation that radiated off of him. When Slugworth had proposed the deal, Jerry was conflicted. 1000 dollars per recipe he stole sounded amazing. At the same time however, Wonka seemed nice and paid a generous wage already. He told Slugworth he would consider it. Slugworth agreed and said they would meet again in a week, in case he changed his mind. 

When Jerry stole the recipe off of Wonka's desk it gave him a rush like no other. He had spotted the handwritten note on the desk while talking to Wonka, and the second the chocolatier turned his back, he snatched it and shoved it in his pocket. He had done it, he had stolen a recipe. It thrilled him, the feeling of his heart racing in his chest was intoxicating. Wonka turned back around and was oblivious to what had happened. Jerry signed the paper, securing his raise. He felt free. The money was about to pour into his life by the gallon, and he couldn't wait. 

••••••••

Willy watched Jerry stand there, shifting his weight back and forth. The man seemed to be forever nervous. Willy could relate, he also suffered from anxiety. Jerry's nervousness seemed to come from his own doing though. 

Willy knew he was the one who stole the recipe. He just needed some proof. He wanted to see it for himself before he did something about it. Then, it happened. Slugworth appeared out of the shadows. It all happened in less than 10 second, but Willy saw it with his own eyes. He cursed at himself for not having better security. He realized that was a blind spot, and that's why the sneaky bastards had chosen that spot. 

White hot fury ran through Willy's veins. Seeing it happen enraged him more than he thought it would. He was livid, and he wanted revenge. He had worked so hard to get this factory, and every recipe that gets stolen was another nail in the factory's coffin. If Willy failed as a chocolatier, he had no clue what else he could do.He knew he had to be smart about it if he was to get revenge. If he went out and confronted Jerry now, the man would flee and probably never return. So Willy made a plan. 

The next day Willy waited for his employees to leave. He knew that Jerry had to walk behind the factory to get home. That's where he would strike. He made his way to the back door, and waited for his prey to arrive. It took about 20 minutes and Willy started to become concerned. What if he went home a different way? He would have to make a new plan, and he's too pissed to wait any longer. 

Finally, he heard those heavy foot steps heading his way. Willy smiled to himself, it's time. He would have to put his acting skills to the test, he wanted to come across as innocent as possible. He wanted to appear helpless. 

Willy knew he was a rather small man. He was also young. It's not everyday a 25 year old is as successful as him. He was going to use this to his advantage. Jerry was roughly 40, and strong. This didn't intimidate Willy though. Not one bit. He knew men like Jerry enjoyed looking stronger and manlier than others. 

It's time to strike. Willy approached the back gate and called out to Jerry. "Hey! I know you just got off work, but do you think you could help me with something real quick? One of the machines seems to have stopped working and I need an extra set of hands to fix it." Willy held back a smile. He could see that Jerry would agree. 

••••••••••  
Jerry turned when he heard Wonka's voice. The young man had asked him to help with something in the factory. Wonka was small, and feminine. It made sense that he would need help with machinery. Jerry grinned, maybe he could con Wonka out of even more money if he helped him with this. "Yeah, sure, I'll help you out. Just lead the way."

Jerry followed Wonka back into the factory. While walking behind him he noticed how much taller he was than Wonka. Jerry stood at 6'2. He guessed Wonka was 5'10 at max, and that was with heeled boots. 

Finally, they reached the room in which Wonka claimed the faulty machine was. It was the incinerator room. A little odd, but nothing he couldn't handle. 

•••••••••

Willy's breath started to hitch in his chest. A mixture of fear, regret, and pure rage raced through his body. He had to consciously hold back his heavy breathing, and hope that Jerry couldn't hear his heart thumping in his chest. 

"Okie dokie, the machine that's acting up is right over here in the corner, right next to the trash drop." Willy slowed down and let Jerry pass him. He had him cornered, it was time to get this job done. 

"You know man, you're gonna have to tell me what's wrong here if you want me to help." Jerry said while turning around with a smug look plastered across his face. The look quickly dropped once he laid eyes on Wonka. 

Jerry's eyes went wide with shock. Wonka was pointing a gun at him, and the look that was on his face made the man look almost unrecognizable. Wonka's cold eyes fixated on him, he felt like a rabbit that was trapped by a sly fox. 

"Woah, okay Mr. Wonka, let's just calm it down..."

"Shut up, trash. You're about to get just what you deserve." Wonka said in an unsettlingly calm tone. 

"WONKA, PLEASE, let's just talk this out!"

"FINE!" Wonka yelled "admit to me that you STOLE AT LEAST 2 recipes. Admit it!"

"For fucks sake, fine! I did steal them! Does that mean I have to die?!"

Wonka chuckled and stepped closer, "Actually, it does. Do you know why? Because this factory is all that I have! If I lose it, I lose EVERYTHING! I'm not going to let assholes like you ruin my life!"

Willy was breathing hard now, on the verge of hyperventilating. Jerry could tell he was about to panic. His fear of the deranged chocolatier was decreasing with each shaky breath that escaped Wonka. 

"If you kill me, you're ruining your own life. You will get caught, and you know that" Jerry attempted to reason with Willy, " if you let me go, I won't mention this. I'll quit my job here at the factory, and you'll never hear from me again? Okay?" 

•••••••••••

Willy thought very briefly about what Jerry was saying, but he didn't care. His rage was fueling him, and made him blind to any kind of reasoning. His hands were shaking and he could feel tears prick his eyes. He had to get himself together. He had to. He had maybe two shots, and that's all. Anymore would draw attention. The walls here were thick, but not thick enough to block all sound. 

"Honestly" Jerry said, disturbing Willy's thought process, "I don't think you actually have the balls to shoot me anyways."

That look. That look on Jerry's face enraged Willy further. He couldn't think of a time when he was angrier than he was in that moment. His teeth gritted together, his jaw clenched so hard it started to hurt. He aimed the gun down, and shot. 

The sound of the shot rang in his ears, the sound of Jerry yelling in pain echoed with it. Time stood still for only a moment. Every detail of those seconds burned into Willy's mind, the smell of the fired gun, the blood running down his victims side. He had shot him in the shoulder, he didn't want a kill shot, yet. He wanted Jerry to know what he was capable of. 

••••••••

"He did it, the dumb little fucker actually shot me" Jerry thought. He couldn't muster up actual words just yet, he was in too much shock. He looked up and made direct eye contact with Wonka. He looked feral. Tears streamed down his face, his teeth bared, and his chest heaving. The gun was still pointed at Jerry, but Wonka's arm shook with fear. While looking at this sight Jerry finally found his voice. 

"You just fucked yourself Wonka! The only thing in your future is prison! You have FUCKED UP!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!!" Wonka yelled at the top of his lungs. His voice had a slight gravel to it that Jerry had never heard before. "JUST SHUT UP! DO YOU THINK THAT I DID THIS WITHOUT A PLAN?! I'M NOT A GODDAMN IDIOT!" Willy took a second to take some deep breaths and compose himself. 

"I have this ALL planned out. When I kill you, I'm disposing of you in the incinerator. I also know that no one is going to look for you. You and I have something in common, we have no family."

"Coworkers," Jerry interrupted, "coworkers will realize I'm gone." He was having a hard time talking, the pain in his shoulder was excruciating. Each word was breathy, "they will eventually file a missing persons report, and then your ass is going to prison."

Willy let out a weak chuckle, "I've got that covered too. Notice that you came in the back of the factory. I have you on camera leaving, but I don't have you on camera coming back. If I show the police that, then I'll be in the clear." 

"You better hope so, because a pretty boy like you in prison wouldn't fair well." Jerry was getting delirious due to blood loss, and felt like messing with Willy. Might as well right? He figured he was going to die anyways. 

Willy sneered at that comment, "Lucky for me, I won't have to worry about prison."

"Well then, it seems like you have it all figured out then! So, stop being a pussy and kil-"

The deafening shot rang through the room once more, only this time the bullet went directly through Jerry's right eye. Time slowed down even more so this time, and Willy saw every detail in high definition 

He saw the way Jerry's eye exploded, and how his head jerked back so quickly. He saw the blood splatter on the wall behind Jerry. He heard the pained gurgle that escaped his victims throat as he collapsed to the floor, the dull thud of the body hitting the concrete. 

•••••••••

Willy stood frozen for several minutes. He wasn't even sure if he was breathing during this time. He suddenly realized that his arm was still up and aiming the gun. At this realization, he promptly dropped the gun. The clank of the metal hitting the floor broke the silence, and broke the trance Willy had been in. 

Panic started to consume Willy, his breath quickened and a small whimper escaped his lips. He was a murder. He had killed someone. What if he did get caught? No, he couldn't think like that. He had to calm down and dispose of his crime. 

Willy looked down at himself, and realized that blood had splattered on his clothing as well. He had stood too close. He knew better than that, but panic made him make a stupid mistake. He cursed at himself under his breath for that. He had to do better, he couldn't afford to make anymore mistakes. 

He started to dispose of the evidence. First, he pushed Jerry's body into the garbage chute. Luckily, he fell relatively close, so it wasn't too difficult. The sound of a human body cascading down the narrow shot was a sound Willy would never forget. 

The difficult part would be cleaning all the blood off the walls and floors. He had to clean it perfectly, even one drop left behind could convict him if he was investigated. He inhaled deeply, and got to work. 

First, he striped his clothing off down to his underwear. He figured the likelihood of the blood soaking that far down was slim, either way he wasn't doing this completely nude. Next, he connected a hose up the wall spigot. He had chosen this room for many of reasons. Easy disposal and easy clean up. 

It took hours to clean up the mess, and Willy was beyond exhausted. He stood in the doorway and admired his work. The room looked spotless, and smelled fresh as a daisy. He looked down at himself and realized the same could not be said for himself. Cleaning a room that is mostly concrete while only wearing underwear is hard on ones knees. Each knee was scrapped up and sore. His hands were about as bad. Between using harsh chemicals and nervously picking at them, his hands were a wreck. 

Willy sighed and took another walk around the room, taking in every detail. Once satisfied, he decided it was time to light the incinerator. He nervously opened the control box and stared at the button that would ignite it. Why was he nervous? He had no clue. Maybe because this was one of the last steps and would completely finish the job at hand. 

He reached out slowly and pressed the button. The whoosh of the fire starting seemed so much louder this late at night. A small glow began to illuminate the room, and Willy could feel the heat begin to arise from the pit. 

Willy had never considered that the smell would be so bad. About a minute after the incinerator was lit, he could smell the burning flesh. It was a mix between a pork barbecue and burning hair, which was appalling and made Willy gag. He quickly scampered out of the room and slammed to door behind him. Without looking back he fled to his living quarters. 

Once there he promptly went in the bathroom and vomited violently. He hadn't eaten all day, which made it much worse. He felt like he was dying, his ribs and back ached and his throat burned like hell. He remained slumped over the toilet for several minutes after his sickness was over. He felt glued to the floor and simultaneously weightless and like lead. Finally, he worked himself off the floor and made his way to the shower. 

Willy leaned his weight against the wall as he reached in and started the water. He lazily dangled his hand in and felt the water trickle down until it was the right temperature. Once satisfied, he striped off his only remaining clothing and stepped inside. 

The heat of the water was just what he needed. He didn't even mind the sting he felt as the hot water hit the open wounds on his hands and knees. Willy leaned against the cool shower wall and exhaled deeply. His mind started to whirl with the events of the day. 

As he thought about everything thing, he realized the only thing that truly scared him was the chance of getting caught. Why didn't he feel bad about this? Was he evil? A psychopath? Maybe. He thought about prison. Unfortunately, that asshole was right about one thing. Willy would not do well in prison. He shuddered. That wasn't going to happen. He would make sure of it. 

He shook those thoughts and started to actually clean himself, he had to make sure there wasn't any blood that wasn't his on his body. He scrubbed his skin until it was raw and red. Then he scrubbed his hair about 4 times. He had to be sure. Once he felt certain he was clean, he turned off the shower and stepped out. 

He skipped his usual nightly skin care routine and just went to bed. He didn't even bother with pajamas, he didn't have the energy. Once his head hit the pillow, he went straight to sleep. 

3 hours later his alarm went off. He gasped and sat up at the sound. It was 6am. The start of a new day. The first day of his being a murder. He groaned and went back into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. He looked terrible, dark circles adorned his face, his skin looked red, and his short hair was wild. That's what I get for skipping my skincare routine and sleeping with wet hair he thought to himself. He opened the cabinet and grabbed some concealer and tried to cover the dark circles and redness. Next, the wet his hair and tried to tame it. Thank God he normally wears a hat. 

He wanted to get back to the scene of the crime before any employees showed up, so he quickly dressed and made his way to it. He wanted to see it with fresh eyes and make sure he didn't miss anything. 

Everything looked perfect, the horrible smell was even gone. It only smelled of bleach, which was good. Willy looked at his watch and sighed, people would be here at any moment. What if they saw something that he missed? They won't, at least that's what he told himself. They won't. 

The day went on normally. No one even mentioned Jerry. Willy knew that they wouldn't, the man was a loner, an outsider. People likely would never notice, or assume that he quit if they did. He felt much more confident. He had gotten away with murder. He watched his employees leave with a smile on his face. 

•••••••••••••

Willy shook as he realized he had been deep in a flashback. He was still looking at the ceiling. He must not have been blinking because his eyes felt dry. It had been over 20 years and today was the first time he had heard anyone mention Jerry. Why had Charlie looked up local missing people? What a random thing to look at. Out of curiosity, Willy reached over and grabbed his phone and looked up the same thing Charlie had earlier. It had only taken him a minute and he was once again face to face with Jerry. He noticed that the missing persons flier was released one year after the murder. It had taken a full year for anyone to notice that the man was missing. That made Willy feel slightly sad, but also happy. Sad because Jerry was obviously lonelier than even him, but happy because no one will care to ever truly look for him. Willy clicked his phone off and sat it back on his night stand. He sighed and rolled over, it was time to finally get some sleep.


End file.
